Monday 30 March 2020

Erik Knudsen: 'Horbelev'


When we buried my aunt
and stood in the graveyard in black clothes
I suddenly saw the land of the living:
The wood down there by the Baltic
blue in the shimmering heat
blue as when we ran along the shore
and built rafts out of planks and
jerry cans
and dived and saw the world from the inside
clear as glass, green with sun.

No comments: